All the things.

Hi again.

I write to you from Big Girl Purgatory, in which I have graduated from NU and am out in the "real world," but not actually the Real World. No, not yet.

My placement in Big Girl Purgatory rather than in the Real World is not because I'm unemployed and subscribe to the culture of entitlement or because I have some weird aversion to business casual clothing. After my jobs at the university became unable to support me as a non-student worker, I moved back home to Someplace, North Carolina. More importantly, I had no obligations with work or school or anything at all for perhaps the first time since infancy. And because I was rejected from all of the Ethnic Studies and American Studies PhD programs to which I applied, I became extremely disappointed with myself and my future.

In fact, thinking about the future terrified me -- my heart would race, my insides would tie themselves tightly into knots so gargantuan that I wondered how they fit in my abdomen, and my body would regularly suffer from panic-induced chills. And let's just not get into the stress- and allergy-induced hives that I got from time to time. I was lost, and I had no motivation to find myself. So for a while, I just focused on healing my physical and emotional selves, mostly through taking long walks in the woods by my house, with the cool mountain air filling my lungs, and watching k-pop and Korean variety shows in my stuffy room filled with Pokemon plushies and Beanie Babies.

This happened during the first full week that I lived at home.

Which was last week.

And you had better believe that it felt like the longest week of my life. Thankfully, now I can start thinking about the future without turning into shivering, jelly-like bundle of nerves. After a few repetitions of, "This really isn't the saddest moment of your life," and, "It has only been a week," along with my mantra of, "Really, Emily??" I'm beginning to take bits and pieces of ideas and plans and ruminating on them for a while. That and learning how to read Korean exclusively from variety shows.

First off, I know I want to be a professor. I know it. I can imagine myself as a researcher, an activist, an instructor, and a mentor. In fact, one of my dear friends who considers me one of his mentors made his decision to abandon the science-based career path that he was only pursuing to placate his family and uphold a certain image of success that his family had for him to instead focus on his real passions of Asian American Studies and higher education. And I doubt it would have happened if not for his friends' support and my nagging at him constantly to declare a minor in Asian American Studies and join the Pan-Asian American student group on campus (which he is now the co-president of). Although he and I might not necessarily be the poster children for filial piety, I feel like a natural advocate for Asian American Studies and the ideology behind the now-viral slogan #yolo. Indeed, I feel pride in being a mentor. I like being a mentor -- just as much as I like calling out racism (and if you know me, you know that I like that a lot). But most of all, I want to blow peoples' minds with the transformative knowledge and even lifestyle changes that Asian American Studies offers.

But when this friend gchatted me asking for advice as to how to move forward down the higher education path, I had a million ideas. But at that point, I couldn't share any of them with him. I mean, who am I, an unemployed nobody who didn't get into grad school, to advise an undergrad who has so much to offer to the field and to show (nay, prove) to his parents? That was the point last week where I just threw my hands up in the air and said, "I just can't with people right now. I just can't." Yes, you read that correctly. I lost my ability to Can. And with that, I lost the one thing that I pride myself on: perseverance. No, not natural-born intelligence, not diligence, not attention to detail, not clarity in thinking, not eloquence and articulation. I have none of those traits. But what I can do, and what I've always been able to do when push-comes-to-shove, is work. Work hard. And with that, my ability to Can is slowly coming back.

So I need to first and foremost formulate a plan to get into grad school for sure next cycle. I looked to my professors first for some advice, and the most common piece of advice I received from all of them was that having a year off is actually perfect to establish your viewpoints and personal opinions (and to read A LOT and revise your writing sample and personal statement several times and to show that you can do research on a specific project but also zoom out and explore broader themes, but yeah).

Alright, cool. Doable. So, I need to pick a position. Will I be a social policy-ist? Economist? Marxist? Neoliberal? Postcolonial? Asian American-ist? Thai American-ist? ?!?!?!

Okay, okay. I don't have that quite figured out yet without consulting more literature, but I WAS able to come up with lists of things that I like and dislike, which might eventually inform my views in a broader way.

Things I dislike (with the understanding of why people would differ from my views):

• The word "Indochina" to describe Southeast Asia
• Using the Eastern/Western dichotomy of thinking and living as a means to generalize and marginalize
• The word "Oriental" in all situations ever ever ever (it elicits a negative but largely Pavlovian response in me, so thanks for that, Edward Said)
• Cultural appropriation (this one is complicated, but I'm not going to get into that)
• Colonialism
• Racism

Things I like (with the understanding of why people would differ from my views):

• I mean, I don't know... 2NE1?

Okay, the lists are pretty short. But I'm getting there.

Second order of business: I need to go do something for a year. Anything. Mostly because, as previously stated, I don't subscribe to the culture of entitlement, and my 22nd birthday is exactly a week from today. So, the length of time that I stay at home is directly proportional to the amount of guilt that I feel towards my parents. So, the one thing that I would do to pass the time and would actually enjoy would be teach English in Thailand. The barrier to that is the basic tenant of filial piety, which is to not make your parents worry. This idea is, in part, the basis of the model minority myth; Asian Americans are often seen as "model minorities" by mainstream America because of successes both economically and socially, and those who perpetuate this stereotype choose career paths that will ensure economic and social security so as not to worry their parents. Of course, this is just a simplification (and that is not to say that other racial/ethnic groups don't hold filial piety in high regards, but think about it for a second before calling shenanigans on me), and I am quickly digressing. My point is, my parents REALLY don't want me to go to Thailand. They believe that the entire country (!) is unsafe, and plus, my mother is ill, so my parents would like me to find a job close-by and spend time with them instead.

My desire then begs the question: why do I even want to go to Thailand? When I went in 2010, I had my ups and downs, and this blog can certainly speak to that. But for some inexplicable reason, I feel drawn to the country like a nostalgia for something I never experienced; perhaps I would even go so far as to call it sehnsucht. I hypothesize my attraction has something to do with the fact that I feel less of and am labelled less of an other when I am there. In America, I am seen as an other almost every day (especially in my part of NC), but it happens less so in Thailand because of my appearance. Though if I open my mouth, it becomes abundantly clear that I am a foreigner in terms of language, so, part of me obviously also wants to work on my Thai skills. But I digress again. I also fear that I will still be seen as an other while in Thailand because of my nationality as an American. Of course, I often have fears that "You're only talking to/wanting to date/hanging out with me because I'm _______ (Thai, American, Thai American, Asian, you name it). These fears indicate deeper insecurities, but, I mean, it could be true (trigger warning: sexual violence). Anyway, besides the obvious rewards such as teaching experience and patience among myriad others, I feel that I need a reprieve from that sort of labeling here in America.

So what's holding me back besides filial piety? I said I'm an advocate of #yolo, right? Well, I'm holding myself back. Let me explain with an anecdote. One particularly windy day a few months ago in Evanston, I entered this quiet, unassuming sandwich shop that had just opened. The walls inside the place looked as though all the neon posterboard you used for your elementary school book reports puked. But artfully. The menu claimed to be Southeast Asian-inspired, so I cautiously ordered a sandwich from the man at the cash register, who turned out to be the owner of the shop. As he was ringing up my order, the back room burst open, and a woman chased a little girl down the cramped seating area. It was around 1PM, so I was concerned as to why the girl wasn't in school, but then I remembered that kids under 5 years old don't need to go to school and that I'm a particularly awful judge of age. The woman picked up the little girl, who was still giggling from her epic escape, and the owner said, "Thanks, honey," to the woman, who turned out to be his wife. We made some small talk, and as usual, my racial background came into question. I told him that I was Thai, and he looked surprised. He greeted me with a bold สวัสดีครับ and told me that he had gone to Thailand several times just to travel. He asked me what my post-graduation plans were, and I told him that I was hoping to go to graduate school (at the time, I was blissfully unaware of my numerous rejections). With that, the man shook his head and said, "Forget about that book stuff, you should just go somewhere." I laughed and asked where I should go, as he seemed to be a well-traveled man. He said, "No, just go. Just go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere. Don't limit yourself." As he handed me my tempeh sandwich smothered in carrots, daikon radish, and a most-likely bastardized version of Burmese curry sauce, he continued, "Don't waste your youth. Just go." As I left the shop, muttering, "What a crazy dude," under my breath, I wondered why I didn't Just Go. And today, I'm still wondering why I Haven't Gone.

So, I've been looking into English-teaching certifications and possible teaching opportunities in Thailand. Looking back on the past few years, I see my experience in the CIEE study abroad program as possibly my greatest personal failure in undergrad, so perhaps I should give myself another shot at success in Thailand. Not to mention that I would like to do research on Thai Americans for my PhD (surprise!). But that's another blog post. ;)

Things still aren't all happiness and rainbows for me still, but I'm getting there, y'all.

Newsletter 1

So as a homework assignment, we're supposed to write an article about, you know, anything that has stricken (?) our fancy so far in Thailand. All of our articles will be compiled into a newsletter that will be sent to our home universities, families, and study abroad offices all over the nation. Here's my first contribution! Yeah!

What is a Farang?

One Thai American's experience with identity

“What's wrong, nong?”

“Nothing... It's just that... I was expecting to host a farang.”

“But I am a farang!”

“... No you're not.”

“... Oh.”

Roughly translated, this was one of the first exchanges I had with my 14-year old host sister who attends Suan Sanuk Municipal School here in Khon Kaen. In Thai, the word “farang” means “foreigner,” or more specifically, “Westerner.” And apparently, I'm not one.

Since arriving in Thailand, I have noticed that it has been nearly impossible to explain to people what being Thai American means. To give a little background, both of my parents were born in Bangkok, Thailand and moved to a suburb of Asheville, NC in their late 20s/early 30s. There, my older sister and I were born and raised; our parents spoke Thai to us throughout our lives, but we never learned how to speak, read, or write in any language other than English. However, we were both excellent at comprehending spoken Thai. In college, my sister studied Thai throughout her entire undergraduate career at Cornell University, and I informally learned the basics of reading and writing Thai through my fellow members of Northwestern University's Thai Club. Prior to this trip, I had returned to Thailand only once – and that was over ten years ago.

In my experience, this seems to be a pretty typical story shared by many second-generation Asian Americans. But it seems as though Thai people can't really wrap their heads around how my background relates to my poor skills in Thai and physical appearance. So far, I have experienced three different reactions from native Thai people I meet for the first time.

1. Khun du muen kohn gowlee/jean: You look Korean/Chinese. Perhaps it was all those years of sitting in my room playing Pokemon on my Game Boy Color, but apparently I'm far too pale to be perceived as Thai. Especially in Northeastern Thailand, where people tend to have darker skin tones, lighter skin tones with an Asian face are attributed to those from China, Korea, and Japan. So when I tell people that I am indeed Asian, they aren't surprised; however, they believe me to be simply kohn Asia, or an Asian, which is very different from a farang. Yet, if I tell them that I have Thai roots, they generally look shocked and then give me a quick look up-and-down, searching for any evidence of whitening cream-use.

And I only assume that this is the meaning behind their up-down because the next question I occasionally receive is, “What brand of whitening cream do you use?” On billboards, television commercials, and posters in 7-Elevens all over Thailand, whitening creams and powders are advertised. Pale, 20-something women with straight, black hair and huge, perfectly mascaraed eyes are pictured holding tubes of cream that promise to make you look like her; popular male Thai drama stars have their faces plastered on postcard-sized pieces of paper which hang off of shelves carrying the cream in convenience stores; and images and videos of top Korean pop idols performing their catchy songs and revealing as much pale skin as possible have completely saturated the Thai entertainment industry. All of these measures are reinforcements for the age-old concept of beauty for Asians, which I personally disagree with: lighter is better.

Evidently, these lighter skin tones are desirable especially among Thai youth. As part of our first homestay experience with the kids from Suan Sanuk, the group made several visits to the school and spent some quality time with the students there. And even during our first encounter, most of the female students squealed and flocked to the most pale members of our group, asking to take pictures with them. Even though they didn't know who we were or why we were there, they simply wanted photographic evidence that they had made contact with a real-life tall, white farang, or at least someone who seems to physically fit their conception of what a farang is.

2. Khun bpen kohn Thai jingjing: You are truly a Thai person. So, even though I have pale skin, people eventually accept that I have Thai ancestry. However, the American part of my identity seems to be problematic for many. In Thai, I asked many of the kids at Suan Sanuk the reasons why they liked the more pale-skinned members of our group. Many of the girls responded, giggling, that it was because a few members of the group looked like characters from Twilight. But for the most part, students of both genders responded that it was because they were farangs. In broken Thai, I told them that I, too, was a foreigner, a Westerner: I explained that I was born and raised in the US, and Thailand is still somewhat foreign for me. Quite conversely, though, many of the kids laughed at me and said, “No, you're not a farang. You're Thai. Just like us.” I thought that perhaps my language proficiency made me think of me as just Thai, but that brings me to the last reaction from people that I meet for the first time...

3. Tamai khun pood pahsaa Thai mai geng?: Why can't you speak Thai well? From what I gather, it's difficult for people to conceptualize a person who seems to be Thai but can't speak Thai very well. When eating at restaurants with the other people in my group, the waitstaff seemingly always speak to me first, and when I can't construct my responses quick enough, they ask me and confirm that I am, in fact, Thai and then walk away, confused. In this way, I might be seen as a farang. However, when I say that I understand Thai, I seem to have Thai-status again, yet many do not understand how that the ability to understand does not necessarily translate to the ability to speak. For example, my host aunt vocalized in Thai to my host sister that she was absolutely baffled as to why I never picked up how to speak Thai from my parents. However, when she realized that I knew exactly what she had said, she was even more surprised and slightly apologetic. Thus, she introduced me to her friend as, “a Thai from America that came back to study at the university,” which implies that she saw my coming to Thailand as a homecoming, and thus, did not see me as a farang, despite my poor speaking skills.

So, what truly goes into the definition of “farang” here in Thailand? There's more to it than having pale skin and poor language ability. And evidently, it has nothing to do with being Thai American.

The kids were presh.

Just herpin' my derp.

Quick one, a bit off topic.

Okay, I'm still working on that language post, but I just wanted to throw this story out there. It concerns the Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act (DREAM), a proposed legislation that would allow undocumented immigrant children to apply for citizenship. Essentially, it would allow for good, law-abiding students that wish to enter college or the the military after high school to do so by becoming legal temporary residents, and later, possibly citizens.

I didn't really have a strong opinion on the initiative when I read the story for the first time. Though I do appreciate the fact that it's very ambitious, and I'm really, really impressed that a youth group is spearheading and organizing support for the act. But the more I thought about it, the more I believe that bright students should definitely be allowed the opportunity to attend institutions of higher learning if they are truly talented and able. And can we really afford to allow educated and talented immigrants to just return to their home country? Or force a smart high school graduate to be stuck in a menial job for which they are totally overqualified?

So, basically, good luck KRCC of Chicago! I'm rootin' for ya.

I'm gonna be the very best...

Back when I didn't think that I would get to study abroad this fall, the super awesome assistant director of Asian American Studies at NU advised that I should take the time to actually think out what I ultimately wanted to accomplish before diving headfirst into the country as well as the program's curriculum. So, I thought. And then I had to take finals. And when I found out that I would actually get to go this fall, I kinda said, "Meh," to the whole idea and decided that I would kinda wing it when I get there.

But today, I was perusing the Northwestern Alumni magazine that routinely gets mailed to my house despite the fact that no one in my household has graduated from NU. It contained listings of what alumni/ae are up to these days as well as the plans of the newly graduated class of 2010. In addition to making me feel ridiculously incompetent and guilty about my hours upon hours of TV-watching this summer, it also encouraged me to actually think about my goals for when I get to Thailand. Here are some potential ones.

A picture from the program's website. I hope to see all of this soon. Complete with adorable doggie.

Goal 1. Complete the CIEE curriculum

Well, it kind of goes without saying that I would have to complete the curriculum set by the program. Basically, my classroom curriculum deals with development and globalization on both the academic and the grassroots/community level. It heavily focuses on the society's relationship with the environment as well as the roles that various NGOs play in the area. Somehow, mixed with all of this, peace and social justice studies will be covered through the community stays, field trips, and larger group projects (they're calling it a field-study practicum, so yeah).

Now... in terms of expecting something in the form of an agenda or moment-by-moment itinerary of the whole experience, I don't. Whatever the program decides to do, I'll have to go by anyway. So I really have no choice in this matter, but I hope to learn through observation in order to...

Goal 2. Change the world - Go into NGOs/non-profits

Here at SESP, we do things differently. And by that, I mean we do things more awesomely. Sure, lots of people go on to be lawyers and teachers and what-not, but there are certainly others that have gone above and beyond by entering into organizations like the Peace Corps or even founding their own non-profits and NGOs. We have had amazing alumni/ae that have done wonderful things with their lives and have helped out so, so many people.

...Wow. To think that I have to fill those shoes by the time I graduate seems impossible at this point. So as step 1 in my master plan to change the world, I hope to observe everything that goes on around me and take fieldnotes like crazy, SESP 372-style. Step 2: perhaps I'll find a topic that particularly piques my interest and make that into an independent study topic or even senior thesis. I would assume at this point that the topic has to do with some sort of social justice because that's the kind of thing I'm into these days, I suppose. I would love to work with the sadly salient issue of human trafficking in the Mekong river basin as well as other places in Thailand. And having this year's Thai Night support the cause of preventing human trafficking definitely increased this interest of mine [thanks, Pong!].

Up top, a Google Maps picture of Khon Kaen. On the bottom, an illustration of the Mekong river basin. Handy!

Okay, step 3. After graduation or something, touch base with an NGO like ENGAGE, a US-based NGO that we will automatically be working with when we get there, that shares my interest and/or mission to change the world. Alternatively, step 3 could consist of setting up a business plan and creating my own non-profit. And that would be incredible. Step 4 would be following through and making whatever I determine to be important as a lifelong commitment. And then change the world. Man, that'd be cool.

Goal 3. Pay the bills - Become a lawyer

As amazing as it would be to do the above option, I would probably still have to find a way to financially support myself. And my LSAT test prep book is telling me that law school is the way to go. I mean, I know how I perhaps sounded a bit self-righteous and all rose-tinted in the last bit that I wrote there. So isn't it a bit cynical that now I want to settle into a profession which society generally views as amoral and just plain... greasy?

Do I aspire to be the butt of all bad lawyer comic jokes?

Ehh. Well. I still want to help people. And I do plan to go into public interest law, where practitioners seem to have more of a soul than the run-of-the-mill corporate lawyers [though don't get me wrong; corporate law is important too!]. Plus, on a broader scale, don't all occupations intrinsically help others in some way? The physical therapist helps patients by aiding them in moving their bodies normally. The musician helps people unwind after a long day by playing his/her music. The high school janitor helps students by cleaning up waste and materials that might be hazardous to students' health. Sure, your neighborhood drug dealer helps people get high but doesn't help the community by doling out mind- and body-altering drugs for high prices. However, different kinds of neighborhood drug dealers like Walgreens and CVS also offer drugs that are meant to help heal people and are thus vital to a community. You might then argue that that the neighborhood drug dealer deals illegal drugs and is thus immoral. But then, are all of our laws based on ethics and morals? Okay, okay, I'm digressing like crazy.

So one way I could integrate my aspirations of becoming a lawyer into the study abroad experience is learn from the justice system there. I could further study deviance and sociological behaviors of the communities that I will stay in given each community's unique circumstances. Also, in the group projects, I hope to think in a different way -- perhaps in a way that's more organized (see above). Not sure exactly how this would help me become a lawyer, but acclimating to different types of thinking is certainly a good thing to have for life, right?

Goal 4. And now for something completely different - Study culture

One thing that differentiates Khon Kaen and the rest of the Isan region from Thailand (and especially the already developed Bangkok) is the culture. The region retains its Khmer and Lao influences - from the food all the way to Isan dialect of Thai that is widely spoken. Want some pad thai while you're in Khon Kaen? Nah, you'd have better luck finding some sticky rice with ลาบ (pronounced kinda like "larb") made from pork and the occasional worm or two.

Mmm. My vegetarian heart cries.

So I could focus on the cultural aspects that make Khon Kaen different from the rest of Thailand. Or, I could study how the people of Khon Kaen are perhaps dealing with the effects of globalization and modernization and how they are able to retain their unique cultural practices. I could even do some comparing and contrasting with other regions of Thailand, since we'll be travelling around a bit anyway.

Goal 5. Even more different - Study cultural appropriation... And pop culture.

Is anyone really surprised? I mean, where else am I going to use my extensive knowledge of k-pop and theories that my 3 previous classes about Asian American pop culture has taught me?

So, k-pop is really, really big in Thailand. And Thai TV networks get all of the Korean music programs [MCD, Music Core, Music Bank, Inkigayo... Is it bad that I'm excited to watch Thai TV for this reason alone?] on their regular cable channels. On the ~academic~ side, I could do a study on how Thais appropriate this Korean culture onto themselves and study their habits as consumers. On the other hand, I could study how the people of, say, random rural villages in the middle of Isan are perhaps not getting exposed to the same aspects of pop culture that their Bangkok-counterparts are. If this is the case, which I'm assuming it is, how do they consume pop culture?

Somehow I could make some grand, sweeping generalizations and then go on to study how Asian Americans consume culture from Asia and what that means for both the identity of Asian American culture and the reigning industries of pop culture in Asia [anime, k-pop, etc]. I would assume that this goal would be geared more towards an independent study, though, instead of a lifelong thing. But it would be fun to "study k-pop" as an occupation, right? Right?

Oh yeah, I promised Pokemon.

Okay, all done here. Next post will be about my love/hate relationship with the Thai language!

Identi-what?

When I tell people that I'm going to study abroad in Thailand, I get comments like, "Ohhh, that's awesome," accompanied with blank stares. Or, "So what will you be doing there?" And then the occasional, "So that's, like, by China, right?" But I never get, "Why are you going to Thailand specifically?"

Sure, one may think it's a no-brainer at first. I'm Thai American (no hyphen? Maybe another post about this later). Of course I would want to go there. Explore my motherland and all that. But what exactly do I want to know about Thailand? Why wouldn't I want to go to a place where I wouldn't face a language barrier or even a place where my obvious interests lie?

Hrm. Well. Here are my thoughts on the matter so far.

1. It all started when...

If that Childhood & Adolescence class I took freshman year taught me anything (besides the fact that birthing is a disgusting phenomenon), it was that adolescents explore their identities as a prerequisite to growing into the ~adulthood~ stage. Often, adolescents grasp onto a facet of themselves that they believe they are certain about: gender, race, sexuality, ethnicity, interests, musical prowess, talent in sports... The list goes on. Then, the adolescent questions and re-questions that facet and makes sure that it really, truly describes them. Therefore, this class forced me to reevaluate the way I went through adolescence and also cemented "placenta" as one of the words I'm most grossed out by, even today.

I... I'm not going to lie to you all. I spent the majority of my adolescence wrapped up in the world of Pokemon. So, it was easy for me to come up with a definition of "me." I like Pokemon, I seem to be defined as Asian to those around me, so thus, I created somewhat of a pan-Asian identity for myself. Then, well, I got into the whole k-pop thing and... Okay, so where am I going with this? When I was in middle school, I allowed my peers to grant me the nickname, "Asian." I didn't hate it. Without many other Asian kids at my school, that's just who I became to be: the token Asian.

2. So, who am I?

At the same time, growing up in western North Carolina has taught me that I am also American. Easy enough: I live here, I speak English, and I certainly enjoy a slice of apple pie with a heaping spoonful of vanilla ice cream on the side with my game of baseball and/or college football, thank you very much. However, I never considered the intricacies of the Asian part of my identity: no, I'm not Japanese. I'm not Korean. In fact, I'm barely even ethnically Thai; the majority of my family came from southern China, actually. My parents just grew up in Thailand and acculturated themselves because they had no other choice. So by blood, I am Chinese. However, I know absolutely nothing about southern China, and I have a poor knowledge of the language and culture of Thailand, much less the way the country words economically, ecologically, politically, etc., etc. But ask me how to use gochujang. Or how to prepare ddukbokki. I dare you.

Mmmm, omnomnom.

Hmm, okay, so I'm a wannabe Asian that's actually Asian but likes to take on other cultures instead of learn about her own. Fair enough. Let's dig further. I declared a minor in Asian American Studies as soon as my sophomore year started at NU. Again, this decision also seemed like a no-brainer because I felt that I identified with Asian Americans, so studying the history of them would more clearly elucidate the motives behind my behaviors as well as my identity, right?

Nah. The more I learn about the history of Asian Americans, the more I saw that Southeast Asians were, for the most part, excluded from the general course of study because of their relative newness in the US. I felt this obligation to research the history of Southeast Asians in America and then stand up and represent Southeast Asians during class discussions. Plus, when my classmates who were actually Chinese or Korean or what-have-you spoke about their own personal experiences being who they are or how their parents entered the States, I felt like I had no right to really supplement what they were saying; there is absolutely no way of me ever knowing how someone who identifies as "Chinese American" or "Korean American" really lives their life, regardless of how many anime series or k-dramas I have watched. So this shallow appropriation of cultures is simply a product of my interest and not my race or ethnicity.

Don't think about it too much. It's just a macro. Brock and SHINee's Onew just look hilariously similar.

3. Identity determined. Now what?

Conclusively, then, I am not a pan-Asian American. Though I am part of the greater Asian American community. I am Thai American. My parents grew up in Thailand, still speak Thai, still practice Thai customs, and still cook mighty delicious Thai food. I was raised to be Thai. I have my own precious family comprised of native Thais and Thai Americans at NU, and they have certainly stuck with me through thick and thin. "Thai American" is simply who I am, I've decided, and that's what I identify as, regardless of my various fandoms stretching across international borders. Am I labeling myself for the purpose of *becoming* the embodiment of everything that is Thai and American? Erm, no, far from that. There are other facets of personality/being to consider. But it's certainly high time for me to experience that non-American part of my identity and thus finish re-questioning that part of my identity. I mean, it's about time for me to transition into that stage of ~adulthood~ already.

Next post will be about what I hope to do when I get to Thailand. Stay tuned! Maybe you'll get more pictures of Pokemon! YEAH.